


Double Impact

by Acidqueen (syredronning)



Series: Screw Drive series [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fucking Machines, Kinky, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/Acidqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More impact than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Impact

**Author's Note:**

> This is part III of the series and the sequel to "Triggered Responses". Written for the Engineer Fuhq Fest.   
> Thanks to Elizabeth Helena for the beta!
> 
> Originally posted December 2004.

"You should take some of your own medicine," Scott said to McCoy the next evening, when he visited him in his cabin. "You've pulled some double-shifts too, didn't you?" He filled their small glasses with the good stuff he only ever shared with McCoy.

The doctor leaned back in his chair. He had just showered and was wearing only a bathrobe. "You're right," he said. "I should get some rest too. But I'm more stressed than really tired yet." He sipped the drink with little enthusiasm. "Too many things going round in my head."

"Well, if my scotch doesn't wind you down tonight, maybe I've got a better idea," Scott said with a twinkle, and made a telling gesture.

McCoy raised a brow. "We don't have a new amateur brothel onboard, do we? Jim will have a fit if -"

"Nay, nothing like that. It's something I've invented." Scott didn't want to bring up Spock's name at this point, knowing that the doctor sometimes acted irrational when it came to the Vulcan. "It's some special machinery. You'll like it."

"Well, sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." McCoy grinned, downing the scotch and putting on some clothes.

They left for the room where the equipment was hidden, Scott leading the way. The engineer unlocked the door and showed McCoy in. When he turned on the light of the room, it illuminated the two benches and strings and wires that connected them.

"Interesting." McCoy drew closer. Scott locked the door again, then stepped to his side.

"Why two of them?" McCoy asked.

"Um, someone helped me a bit," Scott said, evasively. "But you can use it in single mode, too."

Thankfully, McCoy removed his shirt instead of asking further questions.. "What would I have to do to use it?"

"Well, we've got this plug with lubrication feed for the rear, and this milking unit for the penis." Scott showed McCoy the details. "And of course, Jeff's rubber dick for sucking. The better you suck off Jeff, the better the milking unit will suck you off."

"Interesting," McCoy said with a grin, stripping off his boots and pants.

"Really, Len, it looks as if you did something like this every day," Scott said, eyeing his friend.

"Well, we did some jerking off in the Medical Academy, testing equipment and all." McCoy shrugged, cupping and stretching his genitals. "It's all natural, isn't it? And you've seen enough of me in that club on Ortegi III."

"Yes." Scott nodded, but inwardly he couldn't help being more than astonished about the cool way Len handled it...and Spock too. It made him feel like he was the most repressed man onboard. Relative to his fellow officers, at least. Being nude around each other was one thing, but facing a dildo as relaxed as he would an evening drink was something else.

"Do you have some experience with men?" Scott asked, when he knelt down in front of McCoy to help him with the milking unit.

"A bit," McCoy said, putting his hands on Scott's shoulders. His dick was small and soft in the engineer's hands, which made putting on the milking unit a bit problematic.

"I'll...um...give you a hand," Scott said, and stroked it. McCoy groaned softly as his erection was growing under the stimulation.

Scott watched it in fascination. In the two meetings with Spock, the machinery had been a welcome and maybe necessary tool to keep direct sexual contact to a minimum. And somehow he was sure that Spock would self-identify as straight, too. Interesting that he needed McCoy to shift his world view here. The doctor's erection pointed at him, smelling mostly like shower gel and only a little bit like a man. He would have liked to pursue the stimulation, but equally eager to show off the sophisticated technical equipment, so he finally stopped his work and put on the milking unit. McCoy's hands lost their tight grip on his shoulders.

"And now?" McCoy asked, rather dazed.

"Lay down ...yes, like this." Scott arranged the wires as McCoy align his body with the bench.

"Quite comfortable," McCoy murmured, leaning his head against the supportive construction. "But I'm not sure how much of Jeff I can take."

"I wasn't either. But you can always stop him if you bite hard enough." Scott prepared the plug unit, which was gleaming with lubricant and pointing straight towards its goal.

"Ouch. Poor guy."

"Yeah."

Suddenly, Scott slapped his head. "Damn, I forgot to take your stimulation curve."

"My what?" McCoy asked in confusion.

"Um, never mind. I'll do some manual adjusting of the fucking, alright?" Eyeing McCoy's inviting ass, he actually felt like doing the fucking all by himself, but he wasn't sure if McCoy would like the idea. Machinery was so much easier to forget in the morning...

"Alright by me," McCoy murmured, closing his eyes.

"Good." Scott dialed the controls so that the rubber dick and the dildo penetrated at the same time, effectively piercing and pinning down McCoy from two sides.

McCoy groaned heartily.

"Everything alright?" Scott asked in concern. "Gimme a hand sign if I should slow down or stop."

"Mhhmh.." McCoy made a thumbs-up signal, and so Scott started the fucking machine in earnest, enjoying the sight of McCoy working hard on Jeff. Images of McCoy sucking him off soon gave him a hard-on, and he decided that he'd ask his friend about it...some other day. His fingers played with the dials of the plug, choosing a medium, constant speed.

Suddenly, McCoy waved him.

Scott made the tools pull out. "What's the problem, Len?"

"Um, no problem...not really," McCoy said, but blushed for the first time tonight. "I was just...wondering if you'd like to take over."

"Um..."

"You don't have to, of course," McCoy added. "Just an idea...never mind."

"Actually, I'd like that a lot." Scott patted McCoy's slim buttocks. "Just wait a second." He dropped his clothes and removed the plug unit, then applied a big slop of lubricant onto his hard member. That was almost too much stimulation, and he had to clamp his fingers hard around the base to stop himself from coming.

"But really, only if you want to..," McCoy murmured again.

"Len," Scotty said, and knelt down behind him. "You don't know how much I wanted to do this." He slowly pressed in, then held McCoy's hips with strong hands.

"Yessss." McCoy hissed, and pushed back at him, Jeff forgotten.

Riding McCoy was nothing like Scott had ever done, and utterly incomparable to the fucking machine. The close contact of skin to skin, the building heat, the tight friction on Scott's dick, the shivering man in front of him...by god, it was unbelievably hot. He stroked McCoy's back, while he slowly worked in and out.

McCoy mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What did you say?" Scott asked.

"Any chance you can get a hold of my dick?"

"Sure." Scott reached around and pulled off the milking unit. The doctor's erection jumped as his fingers closed around it.

"Lord, yes, more," McCoy whimpered.

"No problem," Scott murmured, and let his body drift into the perfect rhythm of fucking and rubbing. They were in the middle of their workout, bodies sweating and the room filling with their aroused groans, when the door opened.

"Spock...?" Scott barely managed to focus on the figure that stood in the door. In confusion, he broke his stride.

"Don't stop, dammit," McCoy pleaded.

"But..."

"Don't," McCoy repeated, and Scott gave in.

Spock entered the room and locked the door. Scott's eyes widened as Spock walked to the other end of the bench and knelt down next to McCoy's face.

"Would you want me to participate, doctor?" the Vulcan asked emotionlessly, his hands cupping an impressive bulge beneath the black fabric.

McCoy groaned. "Spock..." His brain was visibly anything but clear, and his thoughts processes rerouted to his dick.

"Please answer my question," Spock said.

"Yes, dammit. Go ahead."

Seconds later, Spock's erection was freed, taking the place where Jeff's rubber dick had hung before. The Vulcan held McCoy's face, arranging it to a preferable angle. This seemed to wake up McCoy from his deep hormone haze, but before he could say anything, the Vulcan's dick filled his mouth nicely in rhythm with Scott's fucking.

They rode McCoy for a while, pushing him back and forth between their opposing impacts. McCoy's arms clamped around Spock's hips, his hands groping the Vulcan's buttocks; Scott's right hand worked hard on the doctor's throbbing erection, while his other clutched McCoy's upper left thigh. The three of them built a completely new kind of biological fucking ensemble. Out of habit Scott made a mental note to record their curves the next time...if there would ever be one. But even if this was a one night occasion, it'd stay with him forever.

He looked up and faced Spock's hooded gaze. The Vulcan's eyes were half-closed, one hand still holding McCoy's head, the other stroking the doctor's neck. His lips were slightly open, harshly sucking in air. Scott nodded toward him, signaling that he needed to finish. In his groin, the well-known tension was building, and he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. His hips rotated on automatic, and his grip on McCoy's dick became erratic. McCoy pushed back and buried Scott's dick to the hilt, coming so hard that Spock had to pull out to save his erection from being bitten. Giving himself a final hand, the Vulcan climaxed seconds later, his seed half hitting McCoy's face, half shooting to the floor. Scott, seeing Spock's face in the throes of orgasm and experiencing the spasms of McCoy's muscles around his dick, followed his colleagues with an animalistic cry.

For a long time, Spock stroked McCoy, who had lowered his head onto the bench, while Scott remained slumped over the doctor's back. Only when Spock began cleaning McCoy's face with the inside of his uniform shirt, Scott found the energy to loosen his frozen grip around McCoy's retracting member and to pull out. They slowly untangled, sharing a towel between them.

When Spock and McCoy finally couldn't avoid facing each other, their faces darkened, McCoy's reddening, Spock's taking on a greenish tinge.

"Spock..." McCoy was at loss for words.

Spock was, too. "It seemed...logical," was the only thing he said, rather lame by his standards.

"Hmmhm." McCoy looked unconvinced, but also quite unable to get out anything witty or quizzical. He nodded and grabbed his clothes, moving into the corner.

Spock turned his back to them for the moment that it took him to close his fly, then was the first one to leave without another word.

Scott hastily donned his uniform. The last hour had gained him some unexpected knowledge...but he just wasn't sure if he had ever wanted to gain exactly this kind. When he turned around, McCoy was putting on his shirt.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come here," Scotty mumbled.

McCoy combed through his hair. "No need to blame yourself, Scotty. It was a great idea, and I wouldn't mind doing some more...testing. I'm just not sure if Spock's appearance was all that...ah well." He fell silent.

"How about a drink?" Scott said, although he felt like only a gallon of scotch could save him from this peculiar kind of hangover.

"No thanks, I just want to go to bed now," McCoy said. "Sorry, Scotty." He drew closer and gave him a cautious hug.

"I understand," Scott said, and he did. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah." McCoy left.

Scott looked down at the fucking machine in frustration. He should clean it, but didn't feel the least inclined to do so right now. And concerning the scotch, it could go to hell. He needed something completely different. Determined, he went out, locked the door, and buried his mind in antimatter fuel equations for the rest of the night.


End file.
